


Quelle est cette odeur agréable

by christinefromsherwood



Series: December 2020 Gifts [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Christmas Presents, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, POV Q (James Bond)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:56:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28282809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/christinefromsherwood/pseuds/christinefromsherwood
Summary: If someone had told Q two weeks ago he’d be standing in his bathroom with his nose plugged up, trying to simultaneously air out the room and bleach the floor and walls, he’d probably look at them strangely and then inform them that his home security system was excellent and thus he didn’t foresee the need to dismember a body in his bathtub any time soon.Of course, two weeks ago Q would have supposed that the only reason to start hectically bleaching the bathroom was to cover up a murder. The Q from two weeks ago was but a sweet summerchild.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Series: December 2020 Gifts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2071785
Comments: 27
Kudos: 87





	Quelle est cette odeur agréable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nana_41175](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nana_41175/gifts).



> Nana! Nana!!!! 🤗🤗🤗 Thank you for being awesome. 😁 I hope you enjoy this.
> 
> (Thank you for the prompt, storm :) )

If someone had told Q two weeks ago he’d be standing in his bathroom with his nose plugged up, trying to simultaneously air out the room and bleach the floor and walls, he’d probably look at them strangely and then inform them that his home security system was excellent and thus he didn’t foresee the need to dismember a body in his bathtub any time soon. 

Of course, two weeks ago Q would have supposed that the only reason to start hectically bleaching the bathroom was to cover up a murder. The Q from two weeks ago was but a sweet summerchild.

Then _Le renard noir_ went out of business amid much scandal and rumour, withdrawing all product from the shelves, and Q was pretty much screwed for Christmas presents.

Because, naturally, of all the things in the world, the one thing James had asked for Christmas was their signature cologne _âme de poulet_ ™. 

After, of course, James had said: “Oh, don’t worry about it, Q. I will love whatever you give me.” But apparently, his _father_ used to wear it, and Q had seen the look on James’s face when he’d shown him the bottle and saw that all he had left were a few drops at the most. Needless to say, ridiculous name or not, this was _The One_ Christmas present Q simply had to get right.

Lately, things had been… not great. 

Q wasn’t sure what it was, but something felt _off_ when they were together. Like there was a barrier, a gap between them, and he wasn’t sure what to do about it or how to rid himself of the idea that James was simply going through the motions. And the thing was, Q had seen this before with other boyfriends, and-

But it wasn’t as though it came out of nowhere. Falling into bed together after one too many close shaves on a particularly stressful mission was not exactly the strongest foundation for a relationship. Still, for the first couple of months it had been fantastic and Q- Well, he thought he-

So, of course, Q had decided to _make_ the stupid cologne, only _he_ would make it even better because _he_ was the Quartermaster of MI6 and _he_ wouldn’t be breaking any health code or the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. After all, how hard could it be.

Turns out: very hard. 

Despite what Q had thought and what all of the internet seemed to claim, it was not in fact the easiest thing in the world to find a mix of essential oils that hit all right notes. 

Q supposed that the fact that the description on the company website--which Q had brought back from the dead--was vague at best and deliberately misleading at worst also didn’t help matters. 

Because, honestly, what did it even mean?!

 _Take a deep breath and let yourself be enveloped by the top notes of_ âme de poulet™. _You are floating on a gondola of seaweed. So let yourself be carried away by the current until a gentle hurricane of rosewood and cardamom greets your senses. Then, settle into the warm embrace of ginger and cedarwood and let it soothe your worries. That is_ âme de poulet™. _For him._

Q had smelled James’s cologne multiple times; he quite enjoyed the scent. But he had never felt “enveloped by seaweed” or “cradled by ginger” or whatever else the pretentious French pricks insisted on putting on the box. 

_âme de poulet_ ™ smelled… nice? A little sweet, a little woodsy and well, _James_ wore it, so it also smelled like James, which really was the perfume’s main selling point for Q.

At first, he thought it would be a matter of an afternoon or two before he arrived at the right combination of ingredients that made up the perfect scent. This confidence lasted him only for the first week while he shopped essential oils and high proof alcohols from all over the world and waited for customs to let them into the country. 

It was a different story once he actually started mixing. Because while vanilla and sweet orange were quite nice together (though obviously not anywhere near the “gondola of seaweed”), patchouli and ginger gave off such an incredible stench he had to throw open all the windows and then blame Hennessy’s new litter when James came to pick him up for their date and wondered. 

Eventually, after many desperate afternoons and forlorn evenings, Q got to the point where he would have been happy if his perfume came out smelling even vaguely like James’ cologne, but mostly he would have thrown himself a party in celebration if it was just _pleasant_. 

Naturally, then Hennessy went and pushed the tray with all of the essential oils off the bathroom counter and Q stopped being able to smell anything that wasn’t pain. He thought the bleach and open windows had helped with the overall aroma in the room, but honestly it might have also made it worse. His nostrils were on fire and he was just glad the cat had run off to hide in the bedroom and he didn’t have to worry about him jumping into the toilet, cutting his paws or trying to eat the Domestos screw cap. 

Q now _seriously_ regretted inviting James over for the evening because how he was supposed to explain this. Though perhaps the idea of cleaning up after the murder of an armed intruder had some merit.

Q was just about to take off his rubber gloves and start tossing everything into trash bags when the front door opened. 

Q froze mid-motion, for a moment seriously considering whether he had managed to attract a robber into the flat with the power of his mind. Then, James’s voice came from the living room and Q rolled his eyes at himself.

“Nothing? There’s _nothing_? Are you sure, Eve?” 

The door to the bathroom was closed, still Q for some inexplicable reason crouched behind the bathroom cabinet, frowning at the distressed tone in James’s voice.

“No, no, I understand. Sorry. I mean, I haven’t got anywhere either.” The sofa gave a quiet, familiar whoosh as James threw himself onto it. 

He sounded tired. 

Q frowned. James was _supposed_ _to_ have at least two weeks off after the last mission. Any recon he was doing would be off the books, and after the last time with SPECTRE...

But things were different now, surely. James would tell him if anything like _that_ came their way again. 

Q grimaced at the array of empty Domestos bottles on the bathroom counter. 

Or maybe not.

Heart heavy in his chest, Q rose from his crouch and began to make his way to the door. 

“Well, I’ll keep looking but I doubt it’ll get here before Christmas even if I manage to-” James stopped abruptly, then sighed. “Eve, I _can’t_ just get him the book. I know he said he really wanted to read it, but you didn’t see his face when we watched the documentary.”

Q couldn’t imagine what his face was doing in the moment and he refused to go back to the mirror to find out. He had to bite his lip to stop himself from making a sound; he had no doubt it would be a terribly embarrassing one. Because this sounded like-

Hesitating for only a moment, he crept closer to the door and pressed his ear against it. Q absolutely did not feel guilty for eavesdropping because this was, after all, his flat, and James’s next words came even quieter.

“Oh hello, Hen, yes, you’re a very pretty boy. Your Dad’s still out? Be good, hmm?” 

So Hennessy had dared to venture out of the bedroom after all. Q hoped he wasn’t being his usual cuddly self because he was sure some of the perfume fumes must have got into his coat and there was no way Q could explain that away without letting on-- 

“Yes, I know but listen, Eve. He- It’s just- It’s _important_. No, I don’t think they rebranded it. The company got bought up by Hasbro in the 90s. The line was, of course, discontinued, and with my luck now there’s maybe one box of JUPITER in the entire world.”

 _JUPITER?!_ Q couldn’t stop his gasp even if he wanted to. That was- 

“I’m not being dramatic.”

He _had_ told James about the metal construction set he got for Christmas as a child, and how he loved it and all the things he’d built with it before it got lost when they moved but that was just in passing. Q had never expected-

His hand was on the door handle before he knew quite what he was doing.

“Yeah, you’re right, that’s a good idea. I’ll try Japan, though the shipping times- I _could_ go there, I guess.”

James was half-lying on the couch, still in his leather jacket. It couldn’t have been comfortable for either him or Hennessy who was shimmying up and down his torso, trying to find a cozy spot.

“Hi,” Q said and he thought his voice was fairly low but it sounded like a gunshot in the quiet of the room. It was probably only because of his long career as an agent that James didn’t drop his phone as he startled.

“Jesus Christ, Q! When did you-”

“I was in the bathroom.” Q’s voice was shaking.

“You were-”

“Don’t go to Japan.” Q had no idea why his voice was shaking. But the floor felt as though it was shifting under his feet while he stood there clutching the door frame, so maybe that was why.

“Oh, you heard...” James stopped suddenly, clearing his throat. He looked sheepish and sweet as he began to rub at Hen’s chin with new focus and vigor, and Q really needed to be closer. 

“Yeah.”

“Well, I was-” The tips of his ears were red, and there was one of Q’s lovebites peeking out from the collar of his leather jacket. Q marched towards him, ignoring the way the coffee table creaked as he pushed it aside.

“I love you. You’re an idiot and I love you.”

James gaped. Q briefly thought that as far as first love confessions went, his perhaps wasn’t the best, still he couldn’t stop himself from letting out a slightly deranged giggle and adding:

“We’re both really dumb actually, now that I think about it.”

“Q, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” 

Q had no idea that he was. Still, he could think of a few reasons.

“Because you were going to go to Japan to get me JUPITER and I really want to kiss you but I’m covered in bleach because my cat ruined any chances of me making you the bloody French cologne, which were admittedly not great to begin with.”

“Oh darling, come he- What _is_ that smell? Did you kill somebody?”

Q obediently shuffled closer, laughing, high on either Domestos fumes or happiness. 

“I have no idea because I can’t smell anything except pain, and not yet but I’m seriously considering a couple of Frenchmen.”

Now, that statement might have given some boyfriends a pause. Not James, though. James tugged at Q’s hips and pulled him down into arms. Then he kissed him. Even though Q smelled of bleach and (apparently) murder; even though he’d failed in making him a Christmas present. 

James was an idiot. 

Q kissed him back. They were both really dumb. 


End file.
